Chapter 66 Neve
SIXTY-SIX
NEVE
SIX WEEKS LATER
In my head, the blood is stark against the ice. Melting and puddling into white, the rink unstable as the generators failed. It took Detective Lincoln and his team only seconds to restore the power—Nolan had simply unplugged it. Nothing so bold as what he’s been doing this entire semester.
They found a bag in his truck, parked just outside.
The same rental at Sky Arena that no one had laid eyes on for months.
It had Tasia’s phone, Will’s, Jackson’s.
The others he simply pickpocketed. Ace’s and Mitchell’s he didn’t take, and I wonder if he read my message to him the night he murdered Ace, when I asked if he was okay. And he couldn’t respond.
Now Nolan won’t be able to either. He’ll never answer my questions.
How he tracked me so closely without me knowing—although the abrupt stop to his FaceTiming should’ve been my clue.
Why he decided I needed so much protection now, although the collection of prescription pills, mostly stimulants, found under the cushion of my couch—where he’d been sleeping—might explain that, too.
He was having trouble keeping up with his workload. Took a leave of absence.
Then he only had me to focus on.
And no one questions a brother with a key, do they? He was right there, quite literally sleeping inside Darkmouth, and I never truly believed he was the one.
Detective Lincoln’s name splashes across my screen as I sit in the study of Faust’s home, the door closed, my thoughts spinning. The boys are cooking, Cynthia and Tylone and Karter are supervising, and I’m meant to be writing an essay for my psych course on personality, of all things.
But I answer the phone, my notebook and MacBook in front of me, but none have been touched.
“I thought you’d take Sunday night off,” I say by way of greeting. My voice is hoarse. Crying has done me no favors.
The detective sighs through the phone. “You and me both, kid.” He’s less suspicious with me now.
Less hesitant. I don’t know if it was my face, my words, my voice or what that convinced him I had no idea what Nolan was doing when they questioned me in the aftermath of everything that happened on the rink. But no handcuffs were placed around me.
Not like they were with Faust.
I close my eyes tight in the study. “What do you want?” I ask it without bite.
“Have you solved all of your mysteries?” He asks it with less lightness than he’s said anything else.
My eyes snap open and I stare at my blank, red notebook, my pulse lurching. In my head, there’s Jackson.
Then Nolan.
They died so similarly, both staring up, flat on their backs.
Nolan looked to me, though. Even in the dark, I could see the whites of his eyes angled my way, as close as I was.
The stench of iron was the same, too, but that look… It’s worse than his absence.
“What do you mean?” My words scratch out.
“Mr. Bennet might not have had video footage, but the cafe next door did. And I watched it from the last few months. Well, me and the team. A lot of boring stuff, to be honest. Although something caught my eye.”
I wonder if he’ll ask about Sylvan coming in and breaking Will’s nose.
I wonder if I’ll get arrested for lying to police.
But he says, “I saw Faust Darling walk up your outdoor staircase one night. Then he left, maybe fifteen minutes later. Black hoodie. Dark pants.”
My heart flutters.
The night he texted to check on me.
The scratching at the door.
“He held a knife in his hand. Nothing serious. A pocket knife, as far as I can tell.”
I stare at the dark wooden door to the study, imagine Faust’s silence as he sears meat, mashes potatoes.
“Did he bother you then? Neve, are you…” Lincoln blows out a breath. “Are you safe with him?”
I swallow hard.
Faust was arrested, but he was never formerly charged. Based on my testimony. And Sylvan’s.
Self-defense, but an accident, at that.
Are you safe with him?
“Because we only have your word. We know a teammate will lie to save their careers. This would taint them. It already does.”
They still play for the Dragons, but there are questions. Decisions to be made.
Faust has a contract. His mother wants him close, but mostly, she wants him with me. We met, in the aftermath, and I met Rachel, too. His former nanny. They both hugged me close. Embraced me. Said I helped him sleep better, made him happier. But they said it all between sobs.
Because we know what he did.
And we know it wasn’t a fucking accident.
“All you need to do is say one word. Are you safe with him, Neve? Yes, or no?”
I let my eyes flutter closed.
Some of the rigidity in my spine goes out. Forgiveness flows. Because maybe I’m as bad as they are.
Maybe I know why my mom gave up on us.
I’d never do that to my kids—our kids, when we have them—but I understand it better now.
When I think of the food the boys are cooking, the table with my friends, the meal I’ll fully participate in, like a weight that kept me small has been lifted, I feel whole.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m more than safe.”
And a cruel smile curves my lips. Because I mean it.